Wednesday Ramble

Feeling kind of sad this morning.  Last day of Game Day.  And worse yet, the intern who has run it since last September, both in person and online, will be moving on after our Friday creativity class.  Her school semester will be starting soon, and she will no longer have the time.  I am so grateful to her for volunteering to continue on through the summer.  Her internship actually ended in June. I will miss her so much and hope she stays in contact somehow. That's one thing that always gets me with interns, even while I was still working.  You get to know them, become close, and poof, they are gone. 

My friend Marie is now in assisted living.  I understand her nephew was cleaning out her apartment.  She has a new phone now, but is still not picking up.  I try hard not to feel hurt and angry because I realize she probably can't help it.  But I think back to the day after my son passed, and as bad as I felt I was on the phone trying to cheer Marie up.  I was always there for her, even at the center, and for her to turn her back on me like this?  I wish I could understand.  If it was depression I'm sure her doctors would have put her on medication along time ago.   Maybe the meds aren't working, or maybe she is refusing to take it.  She has always been pretty set in her ways...stubborn. I miss her so much.  I miss them all.  

As I was rereading our memory poem from class I thought 'isn't it funny how our memories work?'  How we remember some things for a lifetime and others of equal importance seem to get lost somewhere in the recesses of our minds.   I'm 73 years old now and can still remember the day my granddad wouldn't give me the money I needed for a cutout book, yet I cannot remember anything about my high school boyfriend except for his name.  I can remember the name I gave my grandmother's broom, only to me it was a horse I used to gallop around the yard on.  It's name was Sowdie.  Don't ask me how a 5 year old came up with a name like that.  I can't remember a thing about my 8th grade graduation. It feels like it never happened, but I know it did.  So how and why do we choose to remember what we do? Some events are pretty insignificant like riding a broom around a yard, but those are remembered, but some special things like a first boyfriend are forgotten.  I wonder.

They take the virus extremely seriously here in New York.  That's why we have the lowest rate in the country.  About three weeks ago they noticed there was a small cluster her in Sunset Park, and they were determined to stop it before it got worse.  So they began reaching out to get everyone in Sunset Park tested....and that was done door to door, robo calls, text messages, and real person calling.  It went on and on, and I appreciate what they are doing, but it soon got to the point where it was harassing, and I let them know yesterday.  I could take a call or two each week, but the calls and texts were coming through EVERY SINGLE DAY.  I lay down yesterday to take a nap and first it was a robo call.  Started to doze again, and this time it was a human.  I was so frustrated I gave the woman on the other end a piece of my mind.  Then, of course, I apologized.  After all, she was only doing her job and trying to keep me safe.  In the end I couldn't apologize enough.

On a positive note. Perhaps our calls to management did something. We've had hot water for the past two days, the rug was finally swept, and when I took the garbage out the pails were empty and the place didn't smell.

Have a good one.